


Beauty Beneath My Hands

by sabbathgoat



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019), The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band Book - Mötley Crüe & Neil Strauss
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Body Worship, Crying, Fluff and Angst, Foot Massage, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Massage, Mentions of Sex, Mick needs a hug, Naked Cuddling, Panic Attacks, Praise Kink, So be warned, a.s. pain, one word away form being a foot fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabbathgoat/pseuds/sabbathgoat
Summary: (Was originally going to be the next chapter to Kiss My Pain Away, but ended up being way too long.)Tommy goes looking for Mick one night when he disappears. He is surprised at what he finds, and what he learns.
Relationships: Tommy Lee/Mick Mars
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Beauty Beneath My Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I had full intentions for this being an update to KMPA, but 11k words is too much for a chapter. So here it is as a stand alone <3
> 
> Inspired by this song: https://open.spotify.com/track/6OSyCAmXT4Gkd3OQ2aPOaF?si=OPHcIo9PSE2Uf27YlfNHvA
> 
> And referencing this photo: https://www.instagram.com/p/B-qUcowItlr/?igshid=sasy32trualm
> 
> Some things in this story that may be sensitive to some readers: cheating, foot fetishes, and piss fetish mentions.

**1998**

"I can't believe you fucking bought those. With _real_ money. And you're wearing them. In _public_. At our goddamn _party_."

Nikki's mothering was nothing new to Tommy Lee. He had been damn near married to the fucker for almost twenty years now, so he learned when to listen and when not to listen. Some things Nikki said were right, and those were the things Tommy pretended not to care about. Other things- such as the skin tight leather short shorts he was currently disrespecting- were just his own opinions coming out as facts. (Well, they were facts according to _Nikki_ , at least). Since Motley Crue had officially gotten sober, Nikki had started to care a whole lot more about much different things.

In the eighties, when they inhaled more coke than oxygen, Nikki would ride his ass (both literally and figuratively,) about how his hair needed more hairspray. Or that his fishnets were on wrong. Or he needed more eyeliner, or he needed to do one more line of blow because he still wasn't terrorizing people enough.

Now a days, Nikki had since abandoned the riding part and stuck to the usual nagging. He worried about Tommy's smoking. He worried about Tommy trying to up his game with a functioning drumkit roller coaster. He worried every time Tommy got a girlfriend. And he worried when he'd have to go over to his house after every break up, to keep Tommy from doing something he'd regret. And when Tommy got married? He _really_ worried then.

But Nikki fucking loved him, and Tommy knew it. He was his best friend. Well, one of three, to be exact; Vince was his other best fucking friend. _Sure_ , they fought, and _sure_ the new album wasn't what any of them had exactly agreed on so _sure_ , he and Vince said some things they had to take back later. But he still loved Vince. Vince was his right hand man at every party, because Nikki and Mick had to take it slow on the sidelines.

Speaking of Mick; he was Tommy's other best friend.

And fuck, he could never tell Nikki, but... _Mick was probably his favorite_. Maybe it was because lately their guitarist had been hiding just under the shadow of a top hat brim, or the aging lines appearing on his face, or the black hair and clothes starting to bring out those baby blue eyes even more with the lack of eyeliner. Fuck, Tommy didn't know. But he loved Mick Mars maybe a little more than his own damn wife. And Mick had started acting more mature along with Nikki too. He had always been the quiet one of the four, but the past two years Tommy had noticed Mick barely even spoke at all. Which was rather sad in Tommy's opinion, because Mick had a wicked unique voice that Tommy fucking _adored_.

Mick was at their party that night too, but Tommy hadn't seen him in over an hour. And as he was scanning the crowd looking for the sneaky fucker, he responded to Nikki's concern.

"Shut up, these are fucking awesome!"

"You look so crazy," Nikki was sitting next to him nursing a Coke the bartender was kind enough to slip him for free. Tommy mentally reminded himself to tell Nikki he was proud of them later. His own hyper hands held nothing but a lemon water; they had been keeping up with the sober streak quite well. But Vince? Tommy was pretty sure their singer was off doing things he probably shouldn't be. But he really didn't want to go fight the crowd to find out. And he still hadn't spotted Mick.

_He hoped he wasn't drinking somewhere too..._

"Hey, where's Mick-dog?" Tommy frowned and looked into the crowd past Nikki's head. Nikki followed his expression and did a sweep of the room too.

"I don't know, you know he hates this shit," Nikki mumbled with another sip to his drink.

Tommy bit his lip. Of _course_ Mick hated parties. But the guitarist wouldn't usually disappear for the night without at least telling them... Tommy was usually the one to walk him back to the hotel, or drive him home. Ever since they had kicked the drugs, Tommy had to finish his nights of warding off booze with paying attention his most adored, fantastic guitarist. He had to give him a goodnight kiss on the cheek before they parted ways, because Mick always looked some kind of sad when Tommy would drop everything and leave to accompany him. He had to make sure Mick was okay, and knew he wasn't a burden to any of them...

"You think he's okay?" Tommy looked into Nikki's eyes when the question slipped out, his way of being unusually serious. Nikki stared at him for a moment.

"Why wouldn't he be?"

Tommy didn't know exactly, but wasn't sure how to put his concerned feelings into concerned words. He swirled his straw around the ice in his glass for a few seconds, then looked into the crowd again.

"He's been pretty quiet lately," Tommy leaned in closer to Nikki so he wouldn't have to talk so loud. Nikki clearly agreed with him- Tommy could see that same worry swimming around in his green eyes too- but apparently wasn't any better at talking about it than Tommy was.

"It's _Mick_ , you know he's always quiet."

"Like _unusually_ quiet. I can't remember the last time I saw the guy even smile for a photo lately..." Tommy trailed off against the palm of his hand currently supporting his head.

"Yeah..." Nikki ducked his own skull, thinking about all the things Mick had probably never told any of them. "Hope he's alright... I sure as hell can't live with out him."

"Me neither..."

Moments went by, the two simply staring at their drinks and listening to the shitty music on the dance floor. Another thing Tommy discovered they were quite good at doing since getting clean: turning every conversation into a pit of dark feelings that hadn't yet been properly addressed. Lucky he, however, that awkward silences weren't so awkward with him and Nikki.

"Well, I'm gonna go find him," Tommy finally blurted out when a harsh sense of unease hit him like a wall. Usually emotional psychic predictions were Nikki's thing, but Tommy couldn't deny the sudden feeling that something just wasn't how it should be. He barely heard Nikki's voice ask what was wrong, as he stood and bolted in the first direction he aimed himself at.

*******

It felt to Tommy as if he'd been searching for at least an hour, but when he checked his watch it had been just fifteen minutes. He'd scanned the crowd, the bar, the dance floor (despite knowing Mick wouldn't dare go near it), along the back wall, until he finally ran into Vince. He'd asked his friend if he had seen Mick at all, and when Vince said no, Tommy's anxiety only grew. After checking the last place left in the building- every stall in the bathroom- and turning up empty handed, he gave up. He was officially sick and tired of bumping into sweaty, drunk bodies, because it just wasn't very fun when he wasn't fucked up with them.

_"Fuck,_ " He hissed at his watch, unable to even hear it over the noise of the party. He'd finally admitted that wherever Mick was, it wasn't anywhere near him. And while just ten years ago Tommy wouldn't have given a damn, and just kept on partying through the night of deviancy, now he was only overrun with exhaustion and fear.

Mick had _never_ bailed out without telling Tommy... Not _once_ in at least five years.

He knew he should have been a little less hypocritical and told Nikki or Vince he was leaving too, but Tommy couldn't bring himself to fight through the crowd again. He was right next to the front door, and sighed a breath of fresh air when he managed to slip outside with no one noticing. The cold night wind sent goosebumps over his nearly naked skin, the leather shorts doing nothing for warmth. Tommy inwardly thought about how being sober felt much more cold, as he made his way down the street towards their hotel. _He really hoped Nikki wouldn't freak out over two missing bandmates._

Their hotel came closer into view like an oasis away from chaos, but all Tommy could think as he strolled through the fancy lobby when he arrived was how much he hoped Mick was just upstairs in bed. The odd looks shot his way as he entered the elevator were nothing new and quite frankly the least of Tommy's worries; he had a much bigger problem. The anxiety boiling in his guts was only growing as he finally hit the seventh floor, where he knew Mick's room was.

The guitarist always stayed at least two floors below the rest of them, after having learned his lesson in the 80s. Tommy had tried to assure him way back after Dr. Feelgood that no illegal shenanigans would be thrown upon his poor old man bones anymore, but Mick still felt better isolating himself. Tommy almost told Mick that it hurt his feelings in a really _weird_ way when he did so, but bit his tongue and eventually accepted what was. Mick deserved his privacy as he pleased.

When the elevator opened to a silent hotel hallway, Tommy's brain suddenly decided to remember that moment that it was already nearly _three_ in the morning when he had checked the time at the club.

_Of **course** Mick was in bed!_

_Fuck_ , he was such an _idiot_ sometimes. If he had just paid attention to the goddamn time, maybe he would have realized that midnight had come and gone long ago, right when Mick always took his leave for the night. Tommy hoped it was just old age playing it's evil games on Mick, because he was honestly a little sad when he would see the guitarist lose energy so quickly. No smile ever ghosting his lips; he'd just tell Tommy he was heading out for the night, and Tommy would invite himself along. He always hated how guilty Mick looked when he did so.

_Maybe he should ask the old man if he was okay..._ All year, Mick had been acting a little further outside the box of strange than he usually did. He was silent at interviews, silent at photoshoots, he barely smiled, and never wanted to hang out with any of them anymore. Tommy thought that was a little strange especially, because so far they had all been doing pretty damn good at following the law lately. _Why did Mick still seem so distant, all of a sudden?_

Tommy may still be learning the proper ways to love people right, but goddamn it- he _loved_ his friends. He _always_ had. And no matter how hard he tried to push those worries about Mick away, they just came crawling back.

Tommy blinked his daydream away and realized he was at Mick's door.

Oh... _Shit_. _Should he wake him up? Or what if Mick had just managed to pass out after hours of tossing and turning?_ Tommy's mind raced as his knuckles hovered over the white wood. He'd hate to make Mick mad, but the fact that he hadn't said goodbye to _Tommy_ of all people that night was just too fucking suspicious to comfortably sleep on. So Tommy knocked, in his usual funky tune he always used, and waited.

The door didn't open for one minute. So as Tommy got goosebumps from the air conditioning kicking on in the hallway, he knocked again normally four times.

_He had to know. He just had to know Mick was okay, whether he was pissed off or not._

Tommy still felt that tugging sense of danger stalking around in his guts. And it had been a long, _long_ time since he'd felt it.

"Mick, you okay buddy?" He finally called out, wishing he could look through the peep hole and see the other side. Silence met him again. He wished he had pockets to stick his restless hands in as he rocked on his feet in front of the door. He looked to the left, then to the right, and back again to the door when he saw no one either way. Tommy finally sighed in defeat, and decided that he would just have to wrestle with unease that night.

He turned around and made it two steps away, before the door finally opened. Tommy whipped around and jumped back in place again to see Mick standing in the small opening, staring down at the floor.

The first thing Tommy noticed was that the room was pitch black- nothing really unusual. The next thing he noticed was that Mick still had his hat on. Which was kind of odd, because Mick should have been asleep _hours_ ago according to his old man schedule. And Tommy was pretty sure Mick didn't sleep in his top hat... _Unless, he did?_ But no, that probably wasn't true, because the next thing Tommy noticed was that Mick was still dressed in his normal clothes. So... he _hadn't_ gone to bed. _Then, what the fuck had he been doing all night by himself?_

"Mick, there you are fucker! You scared the shit out of me, I couldn't fuckin' find you, bro! How's come you left without telling me? Wait, shit, _you got a girl in there?_ Sorry if I'm intruding on your moves," Tommy rambled on with a huge smile and bounced around in his spot in front of Mick's door. He was overly excited to have finally found his guitarist, and wanted him to just open the door a little more so he could get that long overdue quick hug in-

Tommy stopped moving when he finally noticed something else. He could just barely see it in the casted shadow, past the tips of those dark bangs, but Tommy was suddenly very aware of the reason why Mick was still wearing his hat.

Mick was _crying_.

He hid it well; those small tears glimmered in the corner of his eyes, but the wet marks from past fallen ones ran along his pale cheeks. What whites of his eyes that Tommy could see were visibly bloodshot, and the guitarist refused to look up at him. They were unfocused, staring off at something past Tommy's feet.

Tommy felt his heart break, and panic filled the cracks.

"Mick? Uh, what's wrong?" He felt his smile die as fast as it had grown, and he took a step closer to his older friend. Mick ducked his head even more until Tommy couldn't see anything above his chin, sucking in a wet breath through his nose. "Mick, babe?" Tommy quietly whined, forcing down his hand from reaching out and holding Mick's boney shoulder.

_"Nothing, T-Bone, I'm **fine**."_

Tommy could tell from Mick's harsh tone that he was most certainly _not_ fine. He opened his mouth to ask the older man what was bothering him again, but closed it when he realized that words would do no good in their current situation.

Mick was waiting for something- he was standing stiff with the door open just enough to fit his body in the crack, head hung low, staring at the floor- but he hadn't sent Tommy away. Mick hadn't greeted him, hadn't truthfully answered his question, and hadn't made a single move to shut the door again, but he had _opened_ it. And he didn't have to. Tommy knew Mick was never one to be a cry baby, or ask for help with his own tormented emotions- but he had decided to open the door for his drummer. And Mick's eyes may be hidden, but Tommy was definitely old enough to know what sadness looked like on a grown man.

He didn't like seeing it on Mick. He didn't think he'd ever seen it before on his older friend.

_"Mickey?"_ He whispered. Mick didn't move, but Tommy could tell from the flexing muscles in his arm that his hand had tightened it's grip on the door handle. He decided not to speak any more, because Mick was reminding him of something like a frightened baby deer stuck in a corner, begging for freedom. So he finally lifted his own hand, and hooked a gintle finger under Mick's chin as if he was made of cracked glass. And from how stiff the older man was, he may as well have been.

Tommy didn't pull his face up, because he knew Mick would fight it. He took a step closer, until he was standing in the door frame. Then another when Mick didn't move away, so his body was just inches in from the other. Tommy kept his finger pressed softly against Mick's chin, asking for nothing by the gentle touch other than for his presence to stay close. He breathed calmly, silent, evenly; remembering how Nikki used to do these things, and how to say with his energy, _'I'm right here for you.'_ Tommy's body blocked out the light from the hallway behind him so the guitarist was cast in a shadow, and it was then that Mick began to break.

_"I'm sorry."_

Tommy almost didn't catch the whisper from his friend, so he decided to keep quiet a little longer. He could tell Mick was trying to work out how to speak those evil thoughts running rampant in his brain.

It took only a few seconds more before Mick slowly turned his back to Tommy, leaving his head for last as if he missed the finger when it slipped away from his skin. He carefully stepped further into the dark room, silently prompting Tommy to follow. The drummer did so without a word and shut the door behind them. It was too dark to see anything in the room when the last source of light was lost, so Tommy remained standing in his spot as he listened to Mick walk over to the lamp. When he clicked it on and the room was filled with a dull yellow glow, Tommy only felt his wounded heart cry out even more.

Mick's room was unbelievably _trashed_. His bed covers were thrown to the floor, his suitcase was dumped across the couch leaving his clothes spewed about, the TV had been thrown the floor, the furniture shoved out of place, and the chair to the desk knocked over onto its side. Tommy turned his head to peer over into the bathroom when he managed to tear his eyes away from the sore sight, where he could then see every towel abandoned on the floor and hanging on the side of the tub. Even all of Mick's personal items looked as if they'd been chucked against the wall, scattered about the floor in a painful disarray. Tommy was left stunned staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the horrid sight. It was as if a damn tornado had run its course right through Mick's room- it looked like what Tommy or Nikki's hotel rooms would look like after a long night of blow and girls back in 87'. Never something from _Mick_... All their years together, and not _once_ had Tommy ever seen Mick destroy anything- especially things that weren't his own.

But while the state of the hotel room was no doubt one of great concern, the thing that really got Tommy's attention was the empty bottle of Jack Daniel's sitting on the TV stand.

Tommy stared at it longer than he did anything else. He felt his own eyes prick with tears, seeing Mick from the corner of his vision stand like a statue by the lamp. He wasn't facing Tommy, but he knew what his drummer was looking at.

It wasn't shattered, or thrown across the room. It was in one piece, sitting upright in the spot where the TV used to be. Tommy knew Mick had gotten it after whatever chaos had erupted in the room...

He wanted to speak then, but bit his tongue at the last second and held the words back.

_Mick needed help._ Mick _wanted_ help. But Mick didn't know how to ask for it, because he'd never had to before.

So Tommy sucked in a calming sigh, and walked slowly over to him. He stepped over Mick's jacket, then his pillow, and lastly a stray boot before he reached Mick. He simply stood next to him, gazing upon the mess. Mick hung his head in shame, keeping his attention on his own socked feet.

_"I'm sorry,"_ he repeated a little louder.

"For what?" Tommy finally whispered back, and looked down to his friend. Mick's hair hid whatever view he may of had of Mick's crying face.

_"Isn't it obvious?"_ Mick hissed, anger directed only at himself. Tommy blinked down at him before responding, trying to hold back from just wrapping him a hug right then.

"No, not really... I mean, I'm _impressed_ , but..." Tommy laughed quietly, hoping it would ease some of his friend's nerves. He couldn't tell if it did when Mick remained still, so he kept talking. "No, but for real." He cleared his throat. "You're allowed to break some shit, Mick. You are a _rockstar,_ you know."

Mick remained silent at his side, so long so that Tommy didn't think he was going to reply.

"It's not fucking _cool_ , dude," He mumbled and suddenly moved to go sit on the bare bed. Tommy looked down at him, watching his hands work nervously on each other. "I'm..." he gestured around, but didn't finish his sentence with anything but a sigh. Tommy walked over to sit at his side, only inches away. He felt like a giant next to Mick, despite the tall hat on his friend's head. Mick seemed so _depressed_ , so _slouched_ , so _defeated_ by everything, and Tommy started to worry that he wouldn't know how to help him at all.

"Can I ask what caused this magnificent obliteration?" He grinned, despite Mick not being able to see it. His guitarist was silent for a moment more.

_"I don't wanna talk about it."_

"You sure? You you can trust me, you know... I know I wasn't always such a good friend back in the day, but. I'm here for you now. You're safe with me, baby..." Tommy hoped his soft mumble was enough to begin the spread of hope in Mick's heart.

Mick sighed again, and turned his head away from him even more. Tommy accepted his silent answer, and simply looked down to pick at his nails as he waited. He wished Nikki was there with them too- he always knew what to say when Tommy didn't. Coming to terms with dark feelings was definitely more Nikki's speed, while Tommy just took over the physical affection part where his bassist lacked. But Nikki wasn't there, so Tommy knew he would have to make do.

He reached a skinny hand out, and ghosted his finger tips overtop Mick's hand where it sat in his lap. Mick looked down at it for a moment, then gingerly turned his own hand over to accept the long fingers slipping between his. He didn't hold it back, as Tommy softly ran his thumb over Mick's knuckles. But that was okay. Tommy understood. Mick watched their intertwined fingers resting on his leg in silence, the heavy weight finally beginning to lift from their shoulders as Tommy held him with love. It was a small touch to Tommy- one he regularly offered to all of his friends- but he knew it meant a whole lot more to Mick.

Tommy really wanted to blurt out how proud he was that Mick had accepted the offer, but knew that would only break what progress they had made. He swallowed before thinking up his next move. He waited until Mick ever so gently closed his own fingers around his, before taking his other hand and carefully brushing the dark hair off Mick's shoulder. Tommy kept his hand on Mick's back, feeling the soft black strands slide through his fingers as he gazed down at him. Mick remained still as if he hadn't even felt Tommy touch him.

_"I tried to get with someone."_

Tommy blinked when Mick spoke up.

"Oh... What, do I know her or something?" Tommy giggled. Sure, Mick _never_ tried to hook up with a chick, but Tommy couldn't deny he was honestly a little proud of his old man. When Mick didn't answer, however, that pride slid away as fear reclaimed it's place. He pet Mick's hair again as he waited. He started at the bottom of his hat, taking his thick black hair between his fingers, and running them through to the tips. Mick seemed to finally decide he appreciated the affection as he sucked in a heavy sigh and leaned into the touch slightly.

"No..." He mumbled. "They uh..." A long pause. " _Fuck, forget it,"_ Mick suddenly hissed and yanked his hand away from Tommy's, violently rubbing it over his face. Tommy paused, waiting until Mick stopped and was gripping his thigh to tuck his own hands beneath his legs. He hoped hadn't over done it with the physical affection- he knew Mick was the most sensitive about it after all, and Tommy had a habit of getting little too handsy sometimes. And while Mick sounded like he _really_ didn't want to answer anymore questions, Tommy refused to leave him in such a state.

"Mick, what happened?" He prompted softly.

Mick paused another moment, looking at the wall.

_"I'm too fucking old for that shit."_

"For what? Sex?"

Mick's silence was his answer of _yes_.

"Mick, it's okay... She was just being a bitch, _fuck her._ Me and Nikki can track her down later and beat her fucking ass, baby."

"You can't beat women, stop," Mick's halfhearted command held no anger, and he had to swallow before continuing. "It's my fault, don't worry about it."

"Why, was your dick too big for her cunt?" Tommy giggled. Mick didn't laugh with him, however, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, obviously I should worry if it was bad enough to conjure up a wicked Martian-sand-storm in your hotel room-"

_"It wasn't a fucking girl!"_ Mick suddenly growled at him.

Tommy felt his heart stop. He wasn't sure if his face went burning red or pale white- or if his skin was icy cold or red hot. He tried to swallow again, but struggled around his own tongue.

"Oh..." He whispered. _Fuck_ , that had been the _last_ thing Tommy was expecting Mick to say. If it weren't for the relentless tears streaming silently down his friend's face, and the pained look in Mick's unfocused eyes, he would have thought Mick was joking with him. _Not a girl_. Tommy knew Mick never chased women like they did, always blaming it on his age and lessons learned in the past, but... He had had _girlfriends_ before. Fuck, he had even been _married_ and had _kids_ , too! Tommy never suspected for a second in all the years of knowing Mick, that the guitarist would ever be interested in a guy... And between the unending shock fired in his system, bits of undying hope started to grow deep within him.

_Was that why Mick had been so shy all those years of knowing him? Or was it something new that developed not long ago? Maybe around when Mick had stopped smiling?_

It was too late by the time Tommy realized that he hadn't said any of that outloud, and Mick suddenly made as if he was about to leave.

"Just fucking forget I said anything, Tommy, go back to your fucking party-" Mick snarled. But before he could stand up, Tommy launched himself forward to kneel on the floor right in front of him. He pressed his chest flush against Mick's legs, holding the older man's arms with a gentle grip. He finally had a clear view of Mick's eyes hiding under the brim of his hat; they were still stained red and wet with tears, gazing down at him with fear. It made Tommy's gut wrench in pain. He stared up at Mick, praying to something he didn't believe in that the love he felt in his heart was visible in his brown eyes.

_"Mick, it's okay,"_ He whispered. He desperately tried to mimic how Nikki used to speak to him when he'd have his own panicking breakdowns at the bass player's home. _"It's okay..."_ He ran one hand as slow as possible down to carefully hold Mick's fingers. "Keep talking baby, you need to let it out. I can't stand to see you in so much pain."

Mick stared at him for a moment more. The swelling tears in his baby blue eyes threatened to fall, and Tommy waited patiently to dry them up if so. He couldn't even tell if Mick was breathing anymore; the guitarist simply stared down at him, clearly fighting the fear in his heart as he watched Tommy. The drummer could tell he was searching his brown for that same betrayal he'd only ever known- waiting for Tommy to snap and lay a punch across his face, or kick him out of the band. Tommy wasn't even in charge of Motley Crue, and yet he knew that if he told Mick to leave, Mick would. Because Mick was the kindest, most loyal person Tommy had ever fucking known, and not once ever wanted any lick of trouble. And that was all the world had ever dealt him anyways.

Mick was visibly preparing for Tommy to disown him any second now; he was putting up walls in his mind so the hit wouldn't land so hard. In just the minute they spent watching each other, Tommy learned just how much fear had taken root in his friend's mind. And that hurt his aching heart even more.

"You know I could never be mad at you, right?" Tommy knew he had to say something else, so he began trying to corral his untamed feelings into one direction. He reached his other hand up to take a risk and softly hold Mick's cheek. When those beautiful blue eyes only fell more hooded at the touch, accepting the affection, he ran his thumb down the line from Mick's nose to the corner of his mouth. Tommy was unable to stop the small smirk teasing his lips a the sight. He had been watching Mick age the past few years, seeing all those little wrinkles begin to pop up, and decided that it was finally time to let the guitarist know just how gorgeous Tommy thought they were. He hoped Mick hadn't begun sporting a hat every day to try and hide them.

He moved his hand slightly to hold Mick's cheek a little more, fingertips ghosting his hair line where it disappeared under his hat.

"You can trust me, baby. You're my family. My best friend. My favorite fucking guitarist. My number one, _my_ Mick Mars. The one and fuckin' only. You don't deserve to be so hurt, baby, so please. Tell me what happened. _I'll never leave you all alone to fight that shit..."_ Tommy held his breath as he watched Mick take in his words. Mick sucked in a careful sigh, and closed his eyes.

Tommy knew it would be okay when Mick turned his head and nuzzled a little more into Tommy's hand. He pressed his nose against Tommy's wrist as his lips twisted in a silent sob. Tommy's hold didn't falter for a moment as he let warm wet tears roll down his palm and wrist where they met Mick's nose.

_"I'm so fucked up,"_ Mick forced out. His voice sounded so broken, so shattered- Tommy never heard such pain from him before.

"No you're not. You're the best one in this entire fucking band, Mickey," Tommy cooed him.

"No, it's _true_. I should have just ignored my stupid fucking feelings all along, and instead I just had to go be some fucking _idiot!"_ He cried harder against Tommy's hand. One of his own came up to cover it, intertwining their fingers again and holding it close. _"Fuck, I'm so fucking stupid! Just an old, crippled, piece of shit that can never learn a lesson about love no matter how many times it kicks me in the ass!"_

Tommy remained silent as he listened to Mick. He let his guitarist cry against his hand, stroking the other one along Mick's side.

"I was at the party, a-and, I _met_ someone, and-" Mick started choking when the snot in his head left no room for air, so Tommy finally stood up. Before Mick could panic again and think Tommy was bailing on him, the drummer shot his other hand up to fully cup Mick's face. He carefully forced him to look up, meeting that blue gaze stained with tears. Mick's hands latched on to his wrists, silently begging not to leave.

_"Come here,"_ Tommy breathed. He sat back in the mattress next to him, and quickly had Mick wrapped in a tight embrace against his chest. Mick buried his face in Tommy's neck, wishing the drummer's hair was still long so he could hide away in the horrendous mane it used to be. Tommy gingerly took Mick's hat in his hand, and pulled it off his head without the guitarist seeming to realize. He set it behind him on the bed, and returned his hand to bury it in Mick's hair and hold his head close.

Mick cried against his shoulder for another minute, until he finally began to clear his pained mind.

_"Just tell me what happened Mickey,"_ Tommy whispered. He really wanted to ask about that specific word Mick had used a few minutes ago, but knew he would have to save it for later...

Mick took a quivering deep breath, before forcing the story out once more.

"I was there. I was hiding, like usual, because I just wanted to go fucking _home_ and lay down, but... I-I... I _met_ someone." His grip on Tommy tightened. "He was _nice_. He played guitar too.. Not in any band we'd know, but he really knew his shit. And he... he was _young_ , young like y-you, but... He actually treated me like a fucking _human_." Mick moaned in despair as he had to pause through another wave of cries. Tommy bit his tongue until pain was thudding in his jaw as not to interrupt, and ask Mick if he felt as if he'd been treated like anything less than human with them. _Fuck, Tommy didn't think he could regret their actions in the 80s anymore than he did right then..._

He pet Mick's head as the guitarist continued.

"One fucking thing led to another, and then he was asking me if I was staying nearby, and I fucking said _yes_ like a moron. He took me back here and-" Mick stopped abruptly, squirming slightly in Tommy's hold. But Tommy wasn't going anywhere, and waited patiently for his friend to remember that. _"He kissed me,_ " Mick mumbled.

He froze and held his breath, expecting Tommy to shove him away at the confession. But Tommy only closed his eyes, and pet his hair again. So Mick continued on.

"I can't stand one night stands, but... _Fuck, I just wanted love for once_ ," He whispered. "So I decided to try it for a night, and it was going _fine_. He knew what he was doing. But then he laid me down, said he wanted to top me, and I just suddenly _couldn't_ fucking get naked with him. I dont know why, I-I just _couldn't_. I know how fucking _awful_ I look... So I told him I was into clothes or some bullshit like that, and he believed me. He just..." Mick went quiet again, and Tommy opened his eyes.

Whatever Mick had to say next, Tommy knew he really didn't want to admit it. But one thing Nikki had taught him through moments like this spent in the bass player's arms, was that the thing hurting the most, was the thing that had to be said the loudest. So he waited in silence for Mick to remember, accept, and admit.

"I've had sex with men before. And I'm _sorry_ , Tommy. I know it's pretty fuckin' frowned upon, but I can't fucking lie about it. Not anymore. And I knew what the fuck I was supposed to do, but when I tried to do it- my goddamned back just kept hurting so _bad!_ So I told him to ride me instead, and he was pretty unhappy about it but said he would if my cock was big enough. He yanked my fucking pants right off before I even got the chance to do it myself, and _FUCK_ \- _he just,_ _fucking_ -" Mick began to shake with rage, and suddenly sat back away from Tommy. He squirmed in his seat, biting his lip with flowing tears and and nearly ripping his pants with his strong grip on them. Tommy could only watch on, practically feeling the pain claw Mick's insides to shreds.

He feared he knew what Mick was going to say next.

_"He said I had the smallest dick he'd ever seen._ Then he called me _old_ , just because I couldn't give it to him good enough... He called me an old fucking cripple, and he pushed me. _He pushed me right off the fucking bed and said he couldn't believe he was wasting his fucking time with a worthless tease like me._ I didn't even see him leave, he just... took his shit and bolted out the door, a-and-" Mick lost his words again through a long, painful cry. Tommy stared at him in despair. "I fucking threw a fit and trashed the joint, and... I fucking _drank_. I'm so sorry Tommy, I just... _I just wanted to forget."_ Mick hid his face in his hands.

The rage Tommy felt boil in his chest was enough to ignite a fire within him, and Tommy knew he would have to find Nikki later. He wouldn't tell him why- just that someone needed to be taught a goddamn lesson, and Nikki would help him fucking do it. No questions asked. Someone out there had the fucked up audacity to shove Mick Mars off the bed, insult his age, insult his body, and still walk the streets alive. _Mick fucking Mars- who had been treated so poorly so many times, who only deserved true love and never seemed to get it._ Tommy saw red run in his brain, but forced himself to push it aside for later. He had to first show Mick how goddamn wrong it all was.

" _Mick_..." Tommy whispered. He stood from the bed, standing in front of Mick so their knees met. He brought his hands back up to hold Mick's wet face, and this time made him look up. Mick allowed himself to peer up at Tommy past messy bangs, tears already soaking the drummer's thumb. Shame painted his face, and Tommy decided that it was most certainly not a good look for him. _"You know he's wrong. Fuck him. You don't deserve a piece of shit like that,"_ Tommy mumbled, seriousness filling his deep voice. Mick looked like he still didn't believe it; his mouth was frozen in a frown, gnawing on his bottom lip to try and stay silent. _"And I can fucking prove it to you."_

_"W-What?"_ Mick whispered.

Tommy carefully bent down, and pressed their foreheads together.

"I said I can prove how wrong he is."

"How?" Mick didn't pull away, so Tommy then pressed their noses together. He could feel the cold tears upon Mick's skin. He moved a thumb to slowly swipe away the next one that began to fall.

_"Lay down, baby,"_ Tommy whispered. _"But only if you want to."_

Mick opened his mouth like he was going to say he didn't, but it took him a moment to finally speak.

"Tommy?" He whimpered.

"Yeah?" Tommy angled his head just slightly enough to press his lips against Mick's nose. He could smell the alcohol on Mick's breath when the older man spoke again, and it pained his aching heart impossibly more.

_"I think I gotta tell you something."_

_"You can tell me anything, Mick."_ Tommy spoke softly against Mick's skin. He wasn't prepared for Mick's hands to find his own, bringing them together to rest in his lap. His head twitched like he wanted to kiss Tommy back, but he only sucked in a sigh as he continued.

"I'm... I'm too old, Tommy." He swallowed. But Tommy knew that wasn't the truth.

"Mick, you know I don't believe that shit. Tell me the truth, baby." He gave Mick's hands a gentle squeeze. Mick had to take another deep breath. He tried to duck his head again in shame, but Tommy stayed firm in place to keep them connected.

"I u-uh... I have a disease... _A.S._ "

"What's that?"

Mick was quiet, and Tommy could tell he really didn't want to talk about it. He waited patiently for the guitarist to find the courage to speak those painful words, whatever they may be. _He hoped to fucking God it wasn't anything that planned to take Mick away too soon._

"All you need to know, is that it fucks up my back and I'm in chronic fucking pain all the goddamn time. But I've had it forever, so don't worry about it. I'm just a shitty lover and even more shitty human." Mick swallowed. His eyes were shut tight, as if scared to watch Tommy finally leave forever.

"Wait, you gotta give me more than that, babe," Tommy spoke gently, and began massaging one of Mick's hands as the older man forced himself to hold back more tears. "Can you tell me what it does exactly? What do you mean you're in pain all the time, is there anything I can do?" The more Tommy took in Mick's words past his strong want to take all his friend's agony away, the more he began to fear them.

"No, there's no cure and I don't want to talk about it. Don't worry over me, _please,_ " Mick whined.

"Okay..." Tommy nuzzled a little more against him. "I mean, I'm gonna worry pretty fuckin' bad, but I'll pretend not to, if you want..."

Mick managed a small smirk at that. It almost made Tommy grin too.

"Actually..." Mick whispered. "Just the fact that you didn't call me a freak is enough. And that you're still standing here, not repulsed or something..."

That made Tommy finally pull away just enough to look down at him. He stared into those baby blue eyes, taking in all the endless hurt from so many years of abuse. So many years of unableness to trust anyone, believing he was unloved by everyone including himself...

_"I love you."_ Tommy hadn't realized he'd even said it outloud until Mick pulled away slightly. "Shit, sorry, didn't mean to say that out loud so soon. Too fast?"

_"No..."_ Mick barely breathed it. He brought a hand up to Tommy's face, and was then the one to hold his cheek that time. He stroked down to caress Tommy's jaw, and softly pulled the drummer's head closer so he could press their lips together.

Tommy kissed Mick back softer than he'd ever kissed anyone- but that was okay, because Mick was nothing short of currently _terrified_. He gentley sucked on the older man's bottom lip, repeating the motion as he allowed Mick to test the waters at his own speed. Mick repeated Tommy's action, tasting his lips with a shy tongue. He sucked on Tommy's top lip, then his bottom, and then angled his head to gently press his teeth against them in a soft bite. Tommy's moan at the action gave him a little more confidence, so he prodded his tongue to offer more. Tommy eagerly opened his mouth and let Mick lick his way inside, moaning around the older man's tongue as Mick ran it along his bottom teeth. Tommy managed to kiss him through the action, until they were tasting each other and sending drool spilling down their chins.

The drummer quickly learned that Mick may be a shy little fucker, but he was _damn_ right when he said he knew what he was supposed to do. The way Mick started kissing him after a good tongue wrestle with him, was sending fire down to Tommy's guts.

But as much as he wanted to keep going, he just couldn't seem to focus his mind in one direction. Half of him wanted to keep drinking up all that spit Mick was giving him, but the other half kept thinking about that word Mick had used.

_Cripple._

Mick thought he was _crippled_.

And Mick didn't deserve half of Tommy's attention; he deserved all of it. So as much as it pained him, Tommy forced himself to slow things down and pull away to gaze into those begging blue eyes.

"Hey, I gotta ask you something else before we do anything else," Tommy stated with a swallow. Mick looked like he was preparing for a question he wouldn't want to answer, so Tommy gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. _"Why did you call yourself crippled?"_ Tommy whispered. He hopped his small pout expressed how much love for Mick he was currently feeling.

"Because I am. My back is _fucked up,_ Tommy. I got arthritis in my entire spine and my hips are useless, like some old fucker. Theres no cure for what I got, and it will only get worse up until the day I die," Mick admitted. Pain filled his eyes- an embarrassed kind, that Tommy couldn't stand to see.

_"No, baby..."_ Tommy shook his head slightly. He stared down at Mick with an unreadable, deep expression that the guitarist was trying hard to read and work out. Tommy suddenly moved before he could finish to take his shoes off and crawl up onto the mattress, laying down on his side. _"Lay with me,"_ He gentley ordered. Mick looked reluctant because he still couldn't tell how serious the younger man was taking all of his insecurities, but luckily obeyed and crawled up to join him. Tommy paid close attention to his movements- they didn't seem any less stiff than usual, but now that Tommy knew the dark truth Mick had kept hidden for so long, he saw how careful the man was. He couldn't stand the sorrow he felt in his chest for his friend.

Mick scooted up to lay on his back next to Tommy, head resting on the bare matress. Tommy stared at him for a moment, until he was sure Mick was comfortable. Or at least, as comfortable as he could get; he still looked like a nervous teenager, waiting for the drummer to explain. Tommy thought it was pretty fucking adorable, how those bright blue eyes gazed up at him in questioning.

_"You're so fuckin' cute,"_ Tommy whispered. He stalked up on all fours, caging Mick in between his hands and knees. _"Roll over,"_ He shot the guitarist his best grin, and Mick swallowed.

"T-Bone, uh," Mick squirmed a little between Tommy's arms. He looked away, staring at Tommy's endless tattoos to avoid that heated gaze from the drummer. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not feeling up to it. I'm sorry if I wasted your time if that's what you wanted, I just..." Mick cursed himself as he felt those hot tears swell in his eyes again.

"Hmm? No, no, I'm not gonna fuck you baby," Tommy reassured him. "I mean, I _can_ if you want! Trust me, I'd be really fucking down for that shit too! I just, had something else in mind, to make you feel better first," Tommy quickly explained when he saw Mick flinch.

"Oh..." Mick looked over at the window, then back up to Tommy. The drummer felt his heart swell as he watched the wall in Mick's mind crumble slightly, and let a little more trust seep through. "Okay..." Mick rolled onto his stomach between Tommy's limbs, groaning softly as he did so. Tommy could tell even the simple action hurt him enough to stiffen up slightly as he laid still, but pushed away the sadness in his chest as he straddled Mick's thighs.

"What are you doing?" Mick asked with a muffled voice into the bare matress. He tried to turn his head to see Tommy behind him, but barely made it half way. He hissed quietly and dropped his face back down forward.

"Gonna treat you right. By the time I'm done with you, you'll never insult yourself again, Mickey," Tommy all but moaned. "I'm gonna touch you now, okay?" He asked sweetly.

"Uh, okay..." Mick was so painfully nervous, Tommy grew impatient to get moving to stop all that negativity flooding his friend's mind.

He began with slowly lifting Mick's t-shirt up all the way to his chest, where he spread his fingers wide beneath it along his warm skin. Mick tensed beneath him, inhaling slightly at the unexpected innocent motion. Tommy stroked his hands down ever so slowly, all the way to the belt of his pants where he hooked a thumb beneath it. He drug his nails just lightly enough along the way for Mick to shiver underneath the touch, and make Tommy grin. Mick's back didn't look any different from anyone else; his smooth skin was pale, clean with scattered freckles, and the notches of his vertebrae didn't stick out at all. Mick had acted as if his back was the work of a Frankenstein, but Tommy saw nothing but beauty beneath his hands. He pet Mick again, one hand at a time stroking down his spine with just a ghost of a push into the muscle.

_"Mmm, I don't know what you're talking about, Mick... You're one pretty fucker,"_ Tommy moaned.

"You ain't even seen all of me. Trust me, I'm pretty pathetic," Mick groaned into the bed, more-so to himself than the drummer.

"And _that_ is why I'm gonna make you feel like the best kind of jelly, just you wait. I'm the _king_ of massages. I'm gonna fuck you up so good," Tommy wiggled against Mick's legs.

"I can't imagine you being _gentle_ ," Mick joked. "You should really be spending your time with your wife, not an old coot like me..." He thought Tommy wouldn't hear his self deprecating mumble against the bed- hoping that maybe so many years of drumming would have damaged his hearing, perhaps. But Tommy did hear it, and he had something to fucking say about it.

_"Hey."_ Tommy all but growled. He leaned forward, holding Mick's sides and pressing his mouth to the older man's ear against his dark hair. _"I don't wanna be with her right now,"_ He mumbled deeply, and Mick shivered again beneath him. He drug his hands slowly up Mick's sides with softly scratching nails, on the hunt to find that perfect chest. _"I wanna be with you._ Because I _love you_ , and you had a shitty night with a fucker I'm gonna murder later. And you're not allowed to blame yourself for it, or feel ugly, because you're fucking _gorgeous_. You're Mick Mars- _my_ Mick Mars. No one is allowed to think you're old, not even you. So I'm gonna feel you up real nice, and get that spine of yours listening to _my_ hands," Tommy breathed against Mick's hair, then pressed a kiss to his ear.

Mick moaned deeply, and clawed at the bare matress with nothing to grip onto when Tommy's hands slipped under his bunched up shirt. They moved down to stroke what they could reach of Mick's pecs, fingers just barely brushing against his nipples. Tommy grinned through a bit lip as he kneaded Mick's muscles and sat up again. He drug his hands back down, feeling the bumps of Mick's ribs along the way. They were a little more protruded than he liked, but they could work on that later.

"Gonna let me take you're pants off?" Tommy had to suck in a deep breath to clear the heat exploding in his head at the sounds Mick was making.

_"Yes,"_ Mick answered in an shyly aroused groan. Tommy beamed as he slid off Mick's legs when the older man allowed him to reach under, undo his belt, unzip him, and pull his jeans off. He tossed them to the floor, along with the other countless discarded clothes. While he was at Mick's feet, he also pulled off each sock and discarded them as well.

"Kinda wish I was here to see you trash your room, baby," Tommy sniffed. "You probably look super sexy when you're pissed off." Tommy attempted to distract him as he sat back upon Mick's legs, this time facing the other way. "Think you can get angry again and break some shit for me?" He giggled. Mick groaned softly, although Tommy couldn't tell if it was from the lost massage or the request. "See? An _old_ _guy_ can't flip a huge ass TV over."

_"Fuck, I'm gonna get in trouble for that..."_ Mick whined. Tommy laughed slightly as he stroked Mick's bare legs down to hold his ankles.

"Nah, just fuckin' put it back up and leave. Me and Nik used to fuck shit up so much back then, and I can't remember a single fee," Tommy said with pride. _"And I'll give you sexy bonus points if you piss on it too."_ He slowly moved his hands over Mick's heels, surprised at how smooth they were. _Every inch of his guitarist was so fucking perfect,_ he thought as he lifted Mick's right foot up. Mick allowed him to do so, moaning softly through his next response.

"No shit you don't remember, because you three were too fucked up to remember _anything_. Like the time YOU got me arrested," Mick grumbled.

"Shit, still mad about that?" Tommy laughed. He brought Mick's foot close to his chest, and began massaging his ankle with one hand and his toes with the other. Mick fell silent as he worked. "You know I'm super-duper sorry about that, babe... I didn't _mean_ it. I promise I'll only ever get naked in _your_ hotel room from now on," He looked back at Mick, who groaned again. Tommy giggled at the displeasure, turning back to his work. He felt the grooves and bumps of Mick's toe knuckles, rubbing his fingers over the tendons in a repeating motion. He bent his head down to drag a testing lick along the side of Mick's foot, from the heel up to his pinkie toe.

"You got a fuckin' foot thing?" Mick spoke up. He didn't sound angry, so Tommy took his time kissing each one of Mick's toes before answering.

_"No..."_ He mumbled against Mick's arch. _"I just love you sooooo much."_ He kissed him there, then groped his ankle again. He pressed his thumb softly in the dip against the bone, while dragging his other hand down his calf. "Why, not digging it?" He asked when Mick didn't respond. He turned to look at the guitarist, who was staring at the wall lost in thought.

"No, It's okay..." He answered after a moment of silence. He spread his toes slightly for good measure, pressing back into Tommy's hand a little more. Tommy grinned widely as he gave a quick lick to the bottom of Mick's foot again, before scattering kisses along the tender skin. He gave the older man's toes more attention as spoke softly.

"What's a weird kink you got?"

"I don't have any," Mick giggled.

"No way, I know you do. Like, what were you gonna ask that a-hole to do tonight?" Tommy chuckled with him as he softly dropped Mick's leg, and brought the other up to give his left foot the same treatment. Mick moaned softly as he spread his toes for Tommy's fingers. He was silent as he pondered being truthful with his drummer.

"Everything hurts my back, I don't really ask for anything anymore..."

"Hey, where there's a will there's a way, baby," Tommy grinned against Mick's arch. "And I definitely got some wicked ways." The older man pressed his foot ever so slightly against Tommy's mouth, just enough to send fireworks off in the drummer's guts. He moaned in approval as he licked a long thank you down to his pinkie toe.

"Well... I guess just stupid shit, like hair pulling, hickeys, all that normal B.S." Mick sounded disappointed in himself, so Tommy gave him a few wet kisses to his toes with exaggerated wet sounds.

"Well lucky for you, I've mastered _all_ of those. I'm sure you like something else too. Something _dirtier_ , huh?" He mumbled seductively against the ball of his foot. Mick chuckled as he thought.

"Tommy, what do you want?" He spoke as if he knew which game Tommy was trying to play with him. "I know you're full of screwed up things that get you off, so if you want something crazy just ask."

"No no, baby, tonight I'm pleasing _you_. With the best back massage of the century. _I just wanna get ideas for next time, sugar."_ Tommy kissed his foot again. He kneaded along the rough bones of the top of it, taking his time pressing into every little divot of tendon he could feel.

"Well, you've been making out with my foot for a while," Mick giggled.

_"Shit, you're right,"_ Tommy laughed lovingly as he finally released Mick's leg and turned back around to straddle his thighs again. "I'll get back to it, my bad." He bent down and kissed the dip of Mick's spine. Tommy noticed it was already beginning to flatten out, unlike the usual shape it should be. But he tried not to think about it as he kissed him there again. He wished his touches and love could be enough to heal those inevitable wounds festering inside, but those worries washed way when the guitarist moaned quietly in approval. _"I wanna know what crazy shit can get you off, Mick-ster... Exploring kinks is one of my many exotic specialties,"_ Tommy stated quietly with pride.

_"You're exotic all right..."_ The mumbled insult held no seriousness, and Tommy giggled at him as he started rubbing Mick's back again.

"It's true! I can pull your hair next time until you _beg_ me to stop. And choke you a little. And _especially_ give you a whole lotta motherfuckin' hickeys... And then we can fuck around, and invent new sex positions. I can give you a foot job, or you can piss in my mouth-"

"You've mentioned pissing twice now."

"Haha, sorry, my bad again," Tommy chuckled. He roughly kneaded Mick's ass through his underwear.

_"I can't believe the idea of your feet touching my dick doesn't gross me out that much..."_ Mick admitted shamefully. Tommy laughed louder, and bent down to wrap his arms up under Mick's torso. Mick groaned slightly at the odd position, but the new curve of his back actually helped his pain slightly.

_"Because you loooove me,"_ Tommy sang. _"What about the pissing?_ " He pressed his face against Mick's ear again. _"Grossed out by that one too, or no?"_ He mumbled, licking the hot skin of his helix through his dark hair. Mick groaned deeply, and surprised Tommy with his answer.

_"I'd have to think about it."_

Tommy chuckled, clenching his thighs against Mick's to try and tame his growing erection at visions of pissing on his guitarist. He didn't want to scare Mick away too soon.

_"Hey..."_ Mick whispered after Tommy laid a few kisses to his shoulder blades.

_"Hmm?"_

_"You really wanna have sex with me sometime?"_ Mick whispered. Tommy moved his head up to kiss the back of Mick's neck after brushing his hair to the side with one hand.

" _Hell_ yeah. I think you're sexy as _fuck_ , Mick. I know you don't, and that fucker earlier must have been blind, but you _really_ are attractive. You always have been. Even Nikki agrees; he's told me."

_"Really?"_ Mick sounded terrified to be so hopeful.

_"Fuck yeah_. Here, roll over," Tommy sat up and quickly moved off of Mick, tapping his ass. Mick groaned as he flipped around to lay on his back. He moved to pull his shirt back down, but Tommy caught his hands before he could do so. _"Nu-uh, I wanna see **all** of you. Can I take this off?"_ He whispered, holding the cloth between eager fingers. Mick stared down at his chest for a second, before nodding silently and carefully sitting up. Tommy gently pulled the shirt off his head, taking in how gorgeous his pale chest looked with his obsidian hair splayed across it.

_"Wow..."_ Tommy breathed. His hands strayed down to stroke over Mick's pecs, running through his long hair, scratching softly over his flawless skin. _"Fuck, you're pretty..."_ He marveled.

"What? Look at me, I'm so out of shape," Mick mumbled, closing his eyes and scooting slightly away from Tommy's touch to lean against the headboard.

"Fucker, you're _beautiful_. Now lay down," Tommy hooked a finger under Mick's chin to bring his face up and stare into those blue eyes. Mick obeyed after gazing up at him, and slid down to rest on his back again. Tommy watched him closely. His hand slowly traveled from his chin up to bury into his dark hair. _"You have gorgeous hair, baby,"_ He whispered. Mick looked at him with an unreadable expression as Tommy took his time stroking it to the tips. "Can't wait 'till I can take a fistful of it while I make you _scream_." Tommy bent down and kissed him on the lips. Mick kissed him back warily, unused to such praise for simply his looks.

When Tommy was done petting his hair, after a few more sweet kisses, he moved his hand down to his throat. His fingers wrapped around the soft skin of Mick's neck, and the guitarist looked up at him with slight confusion as they pulled away.

"I also got a thing for your neck, I should tell you..."

"M-My neck?" Mick swallowed. Tommy felt his dick twitch in his tight shorts at the bobbing feel of it against his palm. "It's so wrinkly, and-"

_"And it's perfect."_ Tommy hissed with arousal as he bent down again, kissing Mick into silence. The guitarist squirmed beneath him as he kissed back. Tommy watched him blush when he pulled away again, a decent string of drool falling from their lips, and gave him a wide grin of reassurance. When he was done softly kneading Mick's throat, he stroked his hand down to hold his pecs with both. Tommy inhaled sharply with a shuddering breath as he strongly rubbed Mick's unbuilt muscle there, palming over both his nipples. Mick moaned with him, wiggling beneath the strong massage and causing Tommy to rock his hips into nothing.

_"And when I make love to you, I'm gonna mark your chest all fuckin' over,"_ The drummer moaned. He scratched Mick's pale skin, and when Mick shivered under his touch Tommy couldn't stop from bending down and kissing him dead center on the sternum. Mick maoned loudly, and on instinct reached up to pet Tommy's head. The younger man groaned against the wet patch of skin he was drooling over, licking Mick all the way up to the notch of his throat. He looked down at Mick's chest, which was now shuddering with breath- Tommy felt himself falling in love with the way it expanded with each heavy inhale, and exposed his bones and muscles when he exhaled. He rested his face upon it once more, feeling Mick's body work against his cheek.

His skilled hands moved down Mick's ribs for the second time. He gave each side a soft squeeze, feeling the bones as his fingers rolled over them.

"I wanna fatten you up, too." Tommy moaned against his chest before sitting up to look at his work. That made Mick wiggle beneath him even more, stuttering with pink cheeks.

"Fat? I-I'm already fat, dude," He swallowed with a shy grin. Tommy didn't find it funny, however, and stared down at him with intense seriousness.

_"I can see your ribs, baby boy..."_ He whispered. _"I'm gonna start coming over to your house and feeding you."_ He kneaded him a little harder, until Mick grunted and tensed slightly. "Three times a day, I'm gonna stuff you up. And then.. fuck you on the table-" Tommy couldn't finish his sentence before they both burst out laughing at it. Tommy laughed at his ridiculous statement, never stopping his stroking over Mick's thin sides. They finally caught their breath after a moment, and Tommy sniffed to calm his brain. "For real though; you're pretty _now_ , but I'm gonna get some fat on you and you'll look even _more_ stunning. Also you're so fuckin' cute when you laugh, _do it again,"_ Tommy suddenly dug his fingers between Mick's ribs, and the guitarist couldn't help from crying out in a loud laugh.

He tried swiping at Tommy's hands, but was too weak to pull them away. He thrashed around the best he could as the younger man kept him pinned down and tickled his sides, until Mick was gasping for breath with a weakened death grip on his wrists. When he was begging for mercy, a few tears falling from the corners of his eyes, Tommy finally stopped.

_"Fuck you-"_ Mick laughed, wiping at his face. Tommy grinned, and suddenly felt high on the sound of such joy coming from his guitarist.

"That a promise?"

_"Shut up,"_ Mick playfully shoved him. Tommy grinned as he used the distraction to move his hands down to Mick's bellybutton. He gently pressed a finger against it, and Mick immediately squirmed beneath it. _"Look how cute your stomach is,"_ Tommy mumbled. He pressed his hand down, feeling the soft skin of Mick's abdomen stretch beneath it.

"Compared to you?" Mick said. _"Please, I'm so fuckin' soft,"_ Mick groaned. He stared down at Tommy's hand with distaste as the drummer kept massaging his gut.

_"That's why I love it,"_ Tomy stated as if it was supposed to be obvious. Mick gave him a disbelieving look, but kept quiet as Tommy bent down and gave his soft flesh a loud kiss. When the drummer sat up again, he dipped his fingers beneath Mick's underwear line. _"Can I take these off?"_ He gazed down at his guitarist with his best puppy eyes.

Mick looked back up at him, debating his request.

"Uh..." He swallowed, and shifted against the bed under Tommy's waiting hand. "I'm... I'm not very impressive, compared to you guys," He looked away with an embarrassed blush.

"Mick, I just _know_ your cock is perfect, no matter how big you are." Tommy waited until those bright blue eyes were looking at him again before continuing. "Fuck that guy and his shitty opinion. I already love you."

Mick stared at him in stunned silence. Tommy was pretty sure he saw that last brick of the wall in his head finally fall away as he spoke next.

_"Okay_ , _"_ He whispered.

Tommy ducked his head down to press a kiss against his soft cock through the cloth. He then began pulling Mick's boxers down, taking his time to relish in the feeling of seeing him for the first time ever. His dark eyes drank up every inch of new exposed skin, _so pale, soft, unmarked by anyone..._

When he reached the first few hairs of Mick's crotch, however, he stopped.

_"No fucking way-"_ He gasped. He looked up at Mick for explanation, but the older man had an arm thrown over his eyes. "You're a fucking _redhead!?"_ Tommy exclaimed. He felt his erection throb in his shorts as his mind immediately dove into all the images of what his cum would look like coating that red hair surrounding Mick's cock.

_"Ugh,"_ Mick groaned in embarrassment and tried to roll over, but Tommy held him down. "I _told_ _you_ I wasn't attractive-"

"Mick, this is like... _THE_ best thing to ever happen to me. Like, for real. _Fuck, does anyone else know?"_ He swallowed back a moan as he pulled down his underwear down even further, revealing half Mick's flaccid dick.

"No, and I'd appreciate it if you don't tell anyone... Now I gotta worry about two more people fuckin' letting everyone know about me," Mick moaned to himself.

"Mick, you're secret is safe with me, dont worry baby. Even though this is the _sexiest_ shit I've ever seen," Tommy moaned as he eagerly kissed Mick's soft hair at the base of his cock.

_"You're weird,"_ Mick shifted slightly with a deep breath.

_"You just make me crazy,"_ Tommy moaned against him. He pulled back to gaze at Mick's natural color once more, before pulling his underwear down the rest of the way. "Fuck, you're impressive when you're not even hard! What the fuck was that guy smoking!? Look at you, you're packing _good_ , Mickey!" Tommy exclaimed while softly palming his pale thigh. "Can I touch you?"

_"If you really want,"_ Mick whispered at him. Tommy grinned like a cat who caught the mouse as his other hand stroked over Mick's soft member. The older man hissed and squirmed at the touch, so Tommy pet him again. Mick's skin was on fire; he was so insanely warm, Tommy couldn't stop his hips from rolling against the bed as he felt his friend's most sensitive parts. Mick moaned again a little louder, and Tommy had to bite back his own. He carefully palmed over Mick's balls, just to get the feeling planted in his brain. He desperately wanted to bend down and taste them too, but he could feel the beginning of an erection start to form in his hand so he reluctantly pulled away to hold Mick's thighs again.

_"You're so sexy,"_ Tommy admitted softly. Mick looked up at him, eyes bright and cheeks blushing with so much attention. He looked like he wanted to disagree, but thankfully accepted Tommy's words for the moment. The drummer pulled his underwear back into place and then dragged his hands down Mick's thighs, earning a glorious full body shiver from the older man. _"And your legs; so gorgeous, so perfect,"_ Tommy breathed to himself. He pawed at Mick's knees until he was squirming again. He pet down his calves, then stopped at his ankles. _"And you already know how much I dig those feet,"_ Tommy chuckled.

When he looked back over at Mick, he stopped moving. Mick was staring at him, tears swelling in his icy eyes. His expression was flat, and Tommy worried he had said something wrong to make him pull into himself again.

"Mick?" He frowned and placed his hands down on Mick's forearms.

_"You really think all that stuff?"_ Mick whispered. Those tears were just barely hanging on, and Tommy worried he'd have to wipe them away soon.

_"Of course,"_ He breathed. "I'm so sorry that fucker hurt you, Mick. But that shit he said ain't true. However long it takes, I'll keep proving it to you until you believe it." He bent down to give him a loving kiss again.

_"I'm gonna be ugly one day you know,"_ Mick whispered into Tommy's ear when the younger moved down to nuzzle his head. The drummer could hear the fear boiling in his voice. _"I'm gonna be hunched over, all fucked up, and stiff as a fucking wall."_ Tommy could practically feel the pain it took to admit such things outloud.

So he quickly laid down next to Mick, and wrapped him in a hug just tight enough to not cause any pain.

_"I don't give a shit. You'll always be beautiful to me. If anyone ever says anything otherwise to you, I'll fucking kill them."_

_"What about your wife?"_ Mick breathed. He warily hugged Tommy back.

Tomy was quiet for a moment. He hadn't thought about Pamela since the minute he noticed Mick was missing that night. He wanted to tell his friend that he expected things would end between them pretty soon, but didn't want to put anymore burden on his old shoulders.

_"I like spending time with you more,"_ He instead mumbled against Mick's neck. He moved his head to bury his face in Mick's thick hair, taking in his scent. His warmth. His soft skin, every little wrinkle on his body.

Tommy loved how Mick smelled and felt beneath his hands. He worried constantly that he had waited too long to admit his true feelings for Mick, but maybe he wasn't too late. Mick was there, wrapped in his arms safe from all the harsh words the world constantly threw at him. Tommy swore, as he nuzzled against Mick's ear, that he'd never let Mick get hurt ever again, by anyone. He silently promised them both that tomorrow, he would prove it too. He made a plan in his tired mind to show Mick what making love was supposed to feel like- how gorgeous he thought Mick's body truly was, and how much attention he really deserved. He would worship him with all the love he'd been deprived of for so many years. And when they were done, he promised himself to get a book on whatever A.S. was, and do a little research to see what Mick was so scared about.

But yet again that night, Tommy realized that Mick didn't deserve half of anyone's attention. Tommy wanted to give him everything he had, for the rest of their lives- and he couldn't do that with Pamela's symbol of love still banded around his finger.

_Oh well_. That was a problem to deal with tomorrow, when he would wake up at Mick's side and kiss him good morning. Tommy knew he could take on anything with courage with his guitarist at his side, no matter what.

_"I don't care if your back gets screwed up one day, Mick. I'll be right there to hold you, and carry you everywhere we go. I love you. I love you more than anyone in the whole fuckin' world,"_ Tommy didn't realize he was crying until a tear soaked his cheek and the dark hair pressed against it. Mick ran a hand down his shoulder blade, rubbing him soothingly as if he knew.

_"Hey, why don't you take off those shorts?"_ Mick mumbled lovingly with a kiss to Tommy's ear.

_"You sure? I don't have any underwear on,"_ Tommy giggled with a hint of longing pain staining his voice.

_"It's okay,"_ Mick chuckled lazily with him. Tommy made haste in sitting up and kicking his sweaty leather shorts away to join the other clothes. He already felt so empty when Mick's warm body wasn't between his arms, or against his chest. He laid back down in his original spot, his softening cock pressed snug against Mick's.

Tommy thought it was a little crazy, how he should be doing this with the woman he had made vows to not long ago. But Mick meant so much more to him- Tommy didn't think he could ever love anyone more than him. So he kissed Mick again somewhere through his mane, and held him close as the world passed by around them.

_"Thanks, Tommy... I love you too, you know. Thank's for making me feel like less of a freak baby boy,"_ Mick whispered when Tommy's mind was drifting on the waves of unconsciousness. He wanted to respond, and remind Mick one more time that he was loved so goddamn much too, but sleep tugged at his brain just a little too quickly.

He drifted off at Mick's side sometime around four in the morning, to the feeling of his warm skin and the comforting motions of his even breath.


End file.
